Vinyl
by inb4-404
Summary: AU. Naomi is an American university student visiting her father in Bristol and working in his vintage record store. Emily is a Bristol bad girl who has worked at the shop since college. Chemistry seems to spark when they first meet, but not everything goes smoothly. Will they make sweet music together?
1. I was walking far from home

I stood in the cool wind of Heathrow International Airport, standing between two suitcases of luggage, holding a messenger bag full of books and cigarretts, my favorite brand: Marlboro Red. I could only afford 1 pack before leaving Kansas City, which would be the end of me because of how much more expensive I was told there are in the UK. My short blond hair blew in the chilly English air, bustling around my eyes. I pulled absently at my plain t-shirt and skirt, that in hindsight was too short for this weather. Finally, my dad's VW pulled up in front of the place I was standing, surrounded by so many other travelers hustling and bustling to their destination. He got out and immediately popped the trunk. He was a tall man, with messy brown hair and plesant laugh lines around his blue eyes and clean shaven mouth. His dress was just as casual as mine with a warm purple plaid button up and blue jeans. As he took my luggage and packed it in he asked,

"Hey, kiddo, how's it going?" I simply raised my eyebrows in contempt and responded,

"It's going." before opening the passenger side door, opposite of the side I was accustomed to, and got in with my bag slung on my shoulder. My dad awkwardly mumbled,

"Well, I guess that's good..." before getting in himself. After getting the car started and on our way out of the airport he added with a chuckle, "It'll be about 2 and a half hours before we get to Bristol, so I hope we can communicate a little more." Was that a joke? Was he trying to joke around with me? I rolled my eyes, not caring if he saw. Rolling down the window a little bit I pulled out one of my cigarettes. When I cracked my lighter my father looked over in surprise.

"Whoa, whoa, when did you start smoking? Does your mom know about this?" There was a tint of anger in his voice. I could match that.

"When did you start caring about my life or Mom's?" That shut him up, though he was clearly very upset at my insolence. I reached out my hand confidently and turned on the radio nob, signifying my want to end the conversation. Dad seemed to submit, still quietly flustered though he was. I sat back, taking a long drag, realizing this would be one of my last American cigarettes, or at least my brand. I listened to the radio as the smoke floated lazily in front of me. Stupid talk radio and it wasn't even about politics. It was about people and their stupid romantic problems and what worthless reality show they watched like sheep. Without another word to my father I started flipping through the stations until the Arctic Monkeys' fast paced melodies started coming from the speakers. A situation similar to this continued all the way to the gray afternoon skies of Bristol. My dad clicked off Vampire Weekend, in a much calmer state than two hours ago.

"Do you want to get something to eat before we start unpacking, kiddo?" I flicked the butt of my most recently smoked cigarette out the window.

"Don't call me kiddo..." then I sighed in resignation, "and yeah, that would be good."

"Alright, we can go to this nice pub and restaurant I like, Hole in the Wall. You can even get a drink there since you're 20. Don't have to wait for your 21st here.

_'I know, I planned on it.'_ I thought snarkily.

The Hole in the Wall was anything but. It was a rather big building with tables scattered outside and a sleek large inside dinning room. It didn't even look like there was a bar. We took our seats at a high-table, me putting my messenger bag on the back of my chair. A young woman came over to take our drink orders. My dad ordered Lager - a sign perhaps of how long he had lived away from the states. I ordered Heineken in the bottle. There was an awkward silence hanging in the air for the moments it took for us to receive our drinks. It seemed less strained we were were preoccupied with drinking, that is until my dad weakly tried to strike up a conversation,

"So...how has university been?" It was my summer vacation from my Junior year. I was a Journalism student with an ambitious streak.

"KU is fine, other than all the damned hills. Not too far from mom in KC." I answered blandly.

"I meant your courses and classmates, Naomi..." he trailed off.

"Fine." I said with an air of finality. With a frustrated sigh my father gave up for the moment. After ordering we ate in silence, to my relief, but on our trip back to the car my father felt the need to finally stick to his guns.

"Now, I know you don't particularly like me these days, and that this was your mother's idea, but I expect you to respect me while you live in my home and work in my shop. You need money, I'll pay you, but only if you act like a real employee. You don't have to be happy, but you do have to be respectful." He emphasized what he was saying by starting the car. It wasn't like he yelled at me, he didn't even seem that angry, but it was my turn to be stunned to silence. He was right, and I was just being stubborn and usual. At least it wasn't all bad, I was getting a free vacation away from the states, albeit a stupid dock town, and a pretty cool job, minus my dad being my boss.

We drove down narrow cobbled streets past lookalike homes and pubs that looked much more like their namesake than the place we just ate at. Finally we pulled up to a two story building that had a store on the first floor with a closed sign hanging in the window and what I knew to be a loft home on the second. The store proudly proclaimed itself 'The Needle and Groove' in bold stylized letters. The N looked like a needle cartridge on a turntable and both the Os looked like records.

If I was honest, the jet-lag was really starting to get to me. After parking, we pulled my luggage from the trunk and up the stairs at the back of the shop. I had never been here before, and all the lights in the shop were off. I could make out racks and crates of records and a few shelves of CDs, but not any of what was on the walls or around the front desk. I guessed I would find out tomorrow.

I fell into the bed in the guest bed room, not bothering to unpack, change, or even close my door. Tomorrow would be my first official day in Bristol working at a record shop.


	2. High with a little help from my friends

Emily

I woke to the sounds of Effy grinding coffee beans. Why she drank that stuff I would never know. I stumbled through my hangover to get to the shower. Once clean I pulled a Black Sabbath tee over myself to accompany my ripped jeans and doc-martins. Skipping breakfast, as per usual, I brushed my bright red hair out of my face, careful not to catch on my eyebrow piercing. I waved an unenthusiastic goodby to my flatmate, which was returned in full. Grabbing my messenger bag, I was out of the door.

The wind blew chilly on my pale skin as I started up my motor scooter, speeding down the cobble road.

Over cast as usual in this shitty dock town. I really hated it here. But working at the shop was better than going to Uni. Having a job kept the parents off my back and drugs in my pocket. Being Mr. Campell's only employee meant more than minimum wage on my paychecks. I pulled up to the shop just a little early, like I normally do. Still had the closed sign up. After making sure my scooter was secure I rummaged in my pocket for my keys to the shop. Heading inside I flicked on all the lights and turned the sign around to open. First thing was first, I went around the front desk to the computer to check the sales from yesterday. They all seemed in order, so I went to the back room and searched for a recently released album to put on in the store. I flicked through the crate that had new releases. I picked up the new Tallest Man On Earth and took it out of it's sleeve. Not really my taste but most of the customers that came in were into that wimpy stupid indie stuff. After the record was playing I took my normal place on the stool behind the register. Rolling up a spliff under the counter I settled in for the days work. I sparked my handy work right as Mr. Bossman Cambell came down the stairs. He waved cheerily as he came over to the counter.

"Hey, Emily. I've got a bit of news for you." I raised my eyebrow. This always meant something really good, an insane amount of work, or something I wouldn't like.

"Yeah...?" I said hesitantly.

"We've got a new worker, my daughter actually. Don't worry, she knows her music, but she's from the states. I think it'll bring a new vibe, thoughts?" I wasn't sure where to start, I had never actually met an American other than Paul Campbell, and he had been here a while before I did. We'd see if she really did know her music, and most importantly vinyl.

"I'll test her out, tell you what I think." I said jokingly, taking a nice toke from my spliff.

"Alright, well she just got in last night, I told her to come down whenever, but she'll be on time every other day." I shrugged and bayed him goodbye as he exited the shop to do whatever he did during the day.

After finishing the spliff I started flipping through the record people had sold to the store. It was mostly crap, but there were a few things worth putting out on the floor. Radiohead - The Bends was in good condition, and a Rolling Stones - Sticky Fingers was in about the same shape. I put them under the backroom counter for cleaning and pricing later. I was about to go through the next crate when the front door jingled. I went up to the register to see who the morning's first customers were.

"Got any more old school metal today, Ems?" It was an average height boy with long black hair and leather and chains hanging off his clothes.

"Not since you came in last week and bought it all, Rich." Rich and his slightly skeevey mate Alo came in almost weekly, clearly skipping college.

"But, I might have something for you, Alo."

"Yeah?" said the gangly redhead whilst waggling his eyebrows. He hit on me all the time, even though he knew my preferences.

"Here," I held up a pristine CD case, "is this year's best dubstep mixes, over 100 tracks, and," I held up a vinyl sleeve, "the new Animal Collective."

"Sweet titties!" he exclaimed grabbing both albums from my hands, He danced around Rich childishly until I deadpanned,

"They cost money, sheep-fucker." His face fell only slightly into a boyish grin.

"Come on now, Emily, this this how you treat your dear friend and dealer?" I rolled my eyes.

"How about I put the Animal Collective on and we share a cheeky 3 skin in the supply closet, eh, boys?" They looked at each other seriously before breaking out into sly grins.

"Deal." They said in unison.

* * *

Smoke seeped from under the door of the supply closet marked "Employees Only" as Rich and I giggled at Alo's improvised dance moves along with the music.

"So," said Rich, "how's the flatmate?"

"Oh...pretty down since she heard Tony isn't coming home for summer holiday from uni. Or...at least I think that's what wrong. I love her to death but that one just doesn't say much."

"Guys!" Alo attracted our attention to him taking a huge hit and blowing it out his nose while flapping his arms. "I'm a dragon!" I snatched the joint from his hand.

"Give me that before you hurt yourself." Rich laughed and Alo gave me a playful pout.

"Well, hey, Franks is having a party this weekend at her's while her parents are out of town, she's DJ-ing, interested?" Alo asked.

"Hmm...a college party? Aren't I a little old for a Roundview romp?"

"There's free drinks and I hear someones bringing cocaine." Rich chimed in. I pretended to think for a while.

"Okay, but I'm bringing my mates, so expect mayhem."

"Mayhem!" Shouted Alo.

"Okay, okay, I have to get back to the register."

The boys left exchanging no doubt dirty jokes as I resumed my place at the counter. I heard a door from the upstairs loft open and close. I turned my head in what felt like slow motion to see maybe the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.


	3. Hey, it's something new

Alright, I know it's be a very long time, and I'm sorry, but I've been meaning to pick this back up for a while and I finally figured out my password for this account. I hope very much to update regularly.

Also, every chapter is named with lyrics from a song, and it would be fun if someone tried to guess what song. Some of them will be very easy, others not so much.

* * *

Naomi

I woke up groggily to sunlight streaming through my windows. I had no idea what time it even was. The room I awoke to was a very simple guest room, nothing on the walls or anything, just a bed, a dresser, a desk, and my luggage. Glancing at the clock on the dresser I ascertained it to be about 10:30 a. m. Do they use 24 hour clocks in England? I should know that...

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes before actually flipping the duvet off and getting ready for my first day of work. Walking out of what would be my room for the summer, in nothing but some short blue boxers and an oversized shirt with a pig on it, I easily found the bathroom and took off the clothes I had only really put on to walk to the bathroom and back to my bedroom. I sleep naked, you see.

Why is it always so awkward to figure out a new shower? This one apparently didn't have the shower head even fucking attached to the wall. They say that real culture shock isn't the suddenness of being in another country, but the little things. This was probably one of them.

I dried my short blond hair best I could as I reentered my new space. Looking through my available wardrobe, not yet unpacked, I mulled over what to wear as a record store clerk. Something cool, probably, like an old band tee. I pulled a very colorful Flaming Lips tee from under a few other clothes and donned a conservative but flowy black skirt and leggings that looked paint splattered. My high tops completed my ensemble as I combed and teased my hair to be like I wanted it in the full length mirror. Knowing full well that the shop had already opened, I braced myself for working conditions, though I had no idea what they would be. I just knew I would be working with someone else, a comforting thought on your first day.

With a huff of determination, I made my way down the stairs. I was now finally seeing the shop in all it's glory. The walls were bright orange and had posters plastered everywhere, of bands old and new, and some of them just witty or referring to drugs or alcohol. Someone (probably my dad) had even painted a space that looked like a brick wall and had makeshift recreated the Pink Floyd - The Wall album cover. I guess that was pretty clever...

Finally my eyes moved to the front desk to see who I would be working with this summer. She whipped her head around just as I looked and my heart almost stopped. She was gorgeous. Like the drop dead kind. I couldn't bare to keep up this stare without feeling awkward so I walked right up to her behind the counter, heart pounding somewhere in my throat.

"I'm Naomi, the daughter." I held out my hand for her to shake. She seemed like she might have been in a bit of a trance, but she shook her head and smiled warmly, taking my hand.

"Emily. I uh...work here." She said dumbly. Clearly she knew how lame that sounded based on her facial expression. She recovered quickly, "So, I should probably show you the ropes, huh? Or do you need to eat breakfast or something?" I didn't normally, seemed like a hassle, but I needed to get out of that room before I combusted.

"Erm...I think I'm going to smoke a morning cig, but I'll be right back in." I whirled around and was out the door before I knew it.

Sitting down on the curb I hurriedly lit my cigarette. I took a long drag, trying to calm my nerves. My god, she was good-looking. A dilemma raged inside my head at this moment. It wasn't like I wasn't open about being gay back in the states, I had a girlfriend before for about a year and a half, even a few flings, but my dad didn't know and to be honest I wasn't sure if I wanted him to.

That girl was just so...aurg! It had been a good half year since I had any action and one look at this girl i had JUST MET had me panting like a dog. But this was my place of work now and I had no idea what was appropriate. And my god, I didn't even know if she was gay yet. I guess that was plan A, to find out. But then again, I didn't want my dad to know I was gay at all, I just felt like he wouldn't take it very well. He and Mom got divorced over many things, but one of them was political differences. But that girl made my head fuzzy and my hands want to wander. Damn, damn, DAMN.

'Alright, get ahold of yourself, Campbell. You've only just met, just go with the flow, be careful.' I coached myself. With a deep breath I reentered the store. Emily was busying herself with something under the counter and when I rounded said counter I got a truly lovely view of her ass. My mouth went dry and I ripped my eyes away from the sight.

"So," I said, startling her. She probably hadn't realized I'd come in. "what are these ropes you speak of?" She stood and gave me a smirk, flicking red hair behind her shoulder. She looked straight up punk, and I was loving it.

"Well, since this is your first day I think I'm just going to have you clean and grade records, I'll deal with the clientel and the computer stuff for today. Once you have a little more experience only one of us has to be here at a time. Over here," she indicated the back room of the store, "is where the record cleaning machine is, it does a lot of the work for you, you just needed to be attentive with it and figure out when to change the washing fluid, or unclog the string."

"Er..." I said, that was a lot of information very quickly. "So how do you use it?" She gave me an unreadable expression.

"Basically you just put the arm down like this" She showed me, "and let the little suction thing rest like it's the needle on a turn table. It uses the string to stay in the groves and all that. But you have to we it first with that brush. Make sense?" It did actually, she probably should have just told me it worked very much like a turn table, I wouldn't have gotten it right away. "Are you familiar with the grading scale for LPs?"

"Are they the same as in America?" I asked

"I'm not sure, this is the list guide for it." She motioned to some paper on the wall. It was the same, thank god. She felt like she already seemed stupid enough in front of her new summer crush.

"Okay, yeah, I know all this stuff. Do you just want me to start with any of these crates?" I motioned to the large number of creates filled and stacked with albums on the floor.

"Hmm, yeah, but look through them first and if you see anything of value or interest do those first, get them graded and priced and on the floor." I was starting to get the feeling that this was a test of some kind. I would show her what I knew about music. Hopefully impress her.


	4. Them Eyes

I bumped it up to M because, really, that's where it's going anyway, no reason to wait until it's actually in here.

* * *

Emily

Her eyes were beautiful. That was all I could think about all fucking day. Maybe because I got way high the moment I got to work, but what of it? She just seemed so...jumpy? No, it was different than that...

Regardless, she did actually seem to know her stuff. Well, as much stuff as someone who had never worked at a record store would know. I was a bit skeptical when she didn't know how the cleaner worked, but she had an actual taste in music, and a pretty good one. It was different than mine, but that was probably good, she would be able to bring something fresh to the table.

Another thing I noticed was how shy she tended to be. Everything I thought I knew about Americans related to being obnoxious, loud, and rude. But she kept to herself for most of the day, busied herself with work. It was a very pleasant surprise.

But those eyes...she barely made eye contact with me, but I saw her staring at me before, quickly looking away when I noticed a few times throughout the day. They sparkled with intelligence and concentration. Of course that's not the _only_ thing I noticed. I couldn't help but have a quick perv when the opportunity presented itself. I mean, with legs like that why would you want to wear leggings? I couldn't help daydreaming about peeling them down her legs and looking up to find-

"Boss's daughter...what are you doing, Fitch?" I mumbled to myself after snapping out of my fantasy and shaking my head. It was almost 5 in the evening now. Naomi looked up from sleeving a used LP.

"Huh? What was that?" She had slowly been creating a collection of the albums she thought should go out on the floor tomorrow, careful to keep something playing in the store at all times, and pretending not to be there when a customer approached the counter to make a purchase or ask a question.

"Nothing! Sorry, just talking to myself." I glance over at her day's work, "The store closes in about 15 minutes, can I see what you have down there?" Naomi shuffled her feet a bit and looked sheepish,

"Yeah, just don't judge me too hard if I've done it wrong." Oh my god, adorable.

"You're Paul's daughter, I'm sure you have at least a little bit of intuition." I joked playfully before crouching down and flipping slowly through the LPs. _The Who_,_ Little River Band_, _Cat Stevens_, _David Bowie_, and barely broken in _Nirvana_ and _Elliot Smith_ in the used/cleaned pile. The to be priced/store ordered pile had _The Death Weather_, _Iron and Wine_, _The Hives_, _The Black Keys_, and _Flogging Molly_. Damn! She had done pretty fucking well. I looked back at her eyes, which were already concentrated on me, making me blush a bit as I stood. After looking at her words did not come as easily as I was hoping for. "I...uh...that looks..." I trailed off and she looked worried that she had done something wrong. "I love _The Dead Weather_." I finished lamely.

"So...I did well on my decisions?" She still looked kind of worried and confused. I finally swallowed my nerves.

"Yes, very well. I'm impressed honestly." And I really was. She looked delighted and almost killed me with the smile I was rewarded with. I broke the gaze and rummaged in my bag. I pulled out my little sack of weed. "You want some to unwind from the shift?" Naomi's eyes darted around worriedly.

"Woah, wait, we don't know when my dad is coming back!" I laughed.

"So? What difference does that make?" She looked at me quizzically.

"He would shit his pants if he saw us doing that!" She drew closer to me and put her hand on mine, the one that held the weed, to lower it more out of sight. My heart rate increased when I could feel her body heat.

"Um, do you know your own father? I smoke spliffs in front of him all the time, right here in the store." Now anger was added to the blonde's confusion.

"What? I know I haven't seen him since I was very young, but this whole scenario...the record shop, letting you smoke weed, the way this place is decorated...it's just very different from how my Mom described him. They divorced when I was little so I admit to not knowing much about him beyond 'dad' but I always thought he was conservative." I chuckled and shook my head.

"Maybe time changed him?" She thought on it and stepped back, removing her hand from over mine. My hand tingled.

"Maybe..." She let it go, but I would be curious too. She looked conflicted and bit her lip. Oh...I liked that.

"Hey, forget the J for now, I got invited to a party tonight, since it's your first real night in town I feel like I should take you out." We shared an awkward look. "Out on the town- er, out of the house...uh...out." Oh man, just call me the smooth talker.

"Well, I'm going to have to ask my dad, but apparently it's more likely than I thought that he might say yes. Could I get your number. I mean...y'know, so I can let you know?" I beamed at her.

"Of course."

* * *

A few hours later and I was looking myself over in the mirror. The _Black Sabbath_ tee had been changed out for a much tighter_ The Clash_ top and my ripped jeans were replaced with sinfully short jean shorts with a messy hem. I kept the same shoes on. It wasn't much different from when I was at the store, but it was certainly more eye catching. And there was only one beautiful pair of eyes I was secretly hoping to catch tonight. I didn't do anything to my hair, it was already straight and down and looked great with the outfit.

After finishing up my very light make-up routine I glanced at my phone. It was just the normal background screen. No missed calls or new messages. I sighed, thinking she wasn't going to call me, just blow me off, or give me some kind of excuse tomorrow. I put it in my back pocket and headed out of the bathroom to find Effy in our tiny flat. She was in the kitchen dressed like she was DTF and was pouring herself a shot before we got going. I thought she wouldn't be interested in a college party but it took very little convincing. She had invited Cook, Panda, and Thomas. We would be meeting them there.

"Hey, can I get in on that, Ef?" I ask as pull a shot glass down from the cabinet. She gave me a once over and smirked.

"Looking for an underage hookup?" She said enigmatically as she poured me a shot of tequila. I threw it back and savored the burn.

"I could say the same to you!" She smiled in her special way and breathed a laugh.

"Planning on hitting some real clubs with the gang when the kiddies go to bed. Are we picking up that girl on the way?" I glanced at my phone worriedly.

"I'm not sure, she hasn't called me...I probably should have asked for her number back." As if on cue my phone started screaming out _Crazy Train_. I waited for a moment before picking up, not wanting to seem too eager to either Naomi or Effy, who caught absolutely everything. "Hello?"

"Hey, Emily! My dad finally made it home, he said it was fine, with a lot of," she tried to mimic a man's voice, "'behave yourself' and 'stay with Emily', he seems to trust you a good bit."

"I s'pose so. Well, my flatmate and I are ready to go, shall we head over to pick you up?"

"Yeah, haha, I'm ready to rock." She said with playful sarcasm. I kept liking her more and more.

Effy and I got in her car and took off toward the record shop. When Naomi exited the the shop to greet us she was wearing pretty much the same outfit from earlier but, as if in command with my wishes, had lost the leggings. She was also wearing a little make-up, which she hadn't worn any of at work, and it suited her. I smiled widely back at her when she got in the back seat of car. I gestured to the driver.

"This is my flatmate, Effy Stonem. Effy, this is my new coworker Naomi Campbe- oh my god." I had only just realized and I couldn't help but laugh. Effy smirked, clearly picking up on the joke. Naomi laughed awkwardly, and looked a little confused. "Sorry for laughing, I didn't think about it until I said it out loud." Her look continued.

"Think about what?"

"I'm sorry, you've probably been teased about it before, your name is Naomi Campbell."

"And...?" Now she was just plain lost.

"Y'know, like the model?" She had to be playing dumb

"I'm sorry, but I really don't know what you're talking about..." I gave her the benefit of the doubt.

"Naomi Campbell is the name of an English model." Effy provided. Her eyes widened for just a moment.

"Really? Sorry, I don't know any model's names, let alone English ones. No one back home in Kansas ever said anything."

"She's from Kansas? This just gets better, is this over the rainbow for you?" Emily gave Effy a reprimanding look and Naomi groaned.

"Now that one I've heard before."

* * *

"And you're sure this is the right one?" Effy had never been to Franky's house, she'd never even met her. I knew her because of the record shop, she came in all the time and chatted and bought stuff, sometimes with her mates. I'd hung out with their crowd once or twice when I was buying weed or molly from Alo. I knew Franks DJ'd but I'd never heard it, so I was a little excited. There was also the promising prospect of free drinks and coke.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure, only been here once. I'd say those shit-faced Roundviewers on the steps are a good indication." I suddenly got a little nervous. I hadn't really considered how okay with drugs and drinking the American girl might be. She never actually answered me when I asked her if she wanted to share a spliff. I glanced back at her but she didn't look fazed. "You up for a drink?" I asked her, testing the waters. Her face lit up.

"Oh fuck yes, I've been dying for a drink all day. Do you still have the pot?" Oh, well, that certainly answered that.

"Haha, yeah, we'll have some inside." She was too fucking good to be true. Too fucking good to be gay too probably. I pushed that to the back of my mind as we exited the vehicle.

"Eeeemiiiilyyy" Slurred a very drunk Rich being supported by Alo. " 'ow are yaaaa?"

"I'm sure she's real good mate, but I'm tired of playing 'Lean on Me' so we're finding a couch." He threw a wave and a smile through his frustration in our direction before going inside and leaving the door open for us.


End file.
